


Prank War

by Control_Room, Random_ag



Series: The W-lly Franks Twins [12]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Don't Try This At Home, F/M, M/M, and shawn will prank you your grandma and your dog, eska will harvest your toes if you dont read this, get ready, irish curses, its just... constant revenge, johnny and jack are the only ones having fun, kim is a dirty SNITCH, seriously shit gets wild, this be random writing all them tags btw, trust me - Freeform, you dont want him to do that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: This. Is. Death.or: between a master snitch and a terrible prankster, everybody is in it for a piece of hell.





	Prank War

As quiet and calm and polite as Kim could have ever been, he had heard enough from Shawn Jack "Off" Flynn. The merciless teasing about his crush on the only woman who was perfectly able to kill him by barely glancing in his direction, without even having to resort to one of her devastating blows, had gone on for far too long for his patience to sustain it.

Unluckily for the toy maker, he had angered a master snitch.

And now, it was time for karma to kick him where the bright golden Sun barely had any chances of shining.

He had to thank Wally for the tip off that his twin had enormous power over everyone in the studio, Shawn especially. So, as loud as he could, he called him down when Shawn teased him once more, the Irish terror turning paler than a ghost, and explained his worst friend's peculiar form of abuse. Willy rose an eyebrow as he listened, critically analyzing everything.

 

All it took was exactly seven words, said in a low, dangerous, and alluring voice, and Shawn was startlingly reduced to absolute silence in less than a second.

 

"I can be a tease too, Shawn."

A smile painted on Willy's face when he heard a faint gulp of pure terror coming from his beloved; similar to Wally's lazy grin, but more relaxed and devious. He flipped his curls and winked. Perfectly satisfied, he vanished off to the upper level, leaving him at the mercy of Kim and Thomas, who was working on the defective assembly line.

"Oh my god, man," the mechanic grinned as he poked the Irish man right under the ribs: "You are so damn  _fucked_."

"Literally," added between chuckles the other toy maker. "Who's the one to get a pounding now, eh Flynn?"

"BOTH OF YOU, SHUT UP!"

"I don't think I want to," Thomas gave him a look, eyes twinkling. Shawn turned pink, blushing like paint dropped into water. "I took you for the top, but I guess I was mistaken."

"It's not like that!" Shawn protested, red. Tom rolled his eyes. "I-I... um, it's just not like that!"

"Sure sounded like it," Kim adhered, completing a stitch. "He sounded like he was going to have fun tonight, Shawn."

"Look, just," Shawn made a frustrated noise, "keep out of my business!"

"Not so fun when it comes around," Kim grinned at him, ducking under the table to avoid the jug of ink tossed at him. "Oh, but I do like this!"

"It's technically my business, too," Thomas hummed. "Seeing as Wally's my boyfriend, and Willy's his brother, shouldn't I keep an eye out for him?"

"I feckin' hate ye both."

 

 

"Shawn. Shawn." Kim repeated, poking his partner's side.

It had been an entire day; Shawn had walked through the Studios' door bright red and breathless, Willy at his side. He merely greeted Kim with a nod and said nothing. It was unusual, but Kim was exhilarated that whatever Willy did worked. But endless hours passed in silence, and he found himself, wonder of wonders, missing Shawn's loud and somewhat agitating company. The Irishman kept his lips pursed.

"Shawn. Hey, Shawn. Shawn?"

"The hell d'ye want, ye bastard!?" he snapped after a moment, loosing his cool, slapping Kim's hand away. "Er are ye jus' gonna sit there an' prod at me all da-HEY HEY! Cut th-that out!"

Kim stared at him. He just twitched his fingers instead poking. Was Shawn... ticklish? The idea seemed so absurd that it just fit into place. Kim blinked, pale Irish face looking at him in a bit of incredulous agitation. Shawn quickly returned to his work, designing a "Librarian Alice" plushie and rattling prayer after prayer off under his breath in the hope his friend would just go leave him alone and resume his work. But Kim carefully tickled him once again, and he cursed as he jolted away, turning pink as he glared at him. The other toy maker's face lit up.

Shawn's eyes widened as he attempted to get up and run away from the almost accidentally Italian-descending man, but it was too late. Tripping back on the chair as Kim tackled him to the ground, Shawn struggled for a moment before his friend's hands tickled his sides. He howled with laughter, turning red.

"Fuck! Sh-sh-shit!" and other obscenities flew from his mouth between outbursts of laughter as he writhed, squirming as he tickled him. He tried to shove him off, but was weakened by trying to keep himself from being tickled in general. "Kim I swear to G-God! Get the fuck off meheeehhkljhg!"

"How did you make that sound with your mouth?" Kim questioned with a laugh. He  rolled his eyes, his co-worker being far too incapacitated to talk by the brutal titillating. The Irishman was scarlet at this point, striving to maintain some dignity (though it was clear he had none by now). Kim grinned down at him, finally able to show his formidability. He only stopped tickling him when he began to choke on his own mirth, tears gleaming in his eyes from the awful treatment.

"Heh! Not so strong and mighty now, you leprechaun!"

"Get off of him, Kim," Willy coldly said, pushing himself off the banister he leaned on. "I think that he learned a lesson."

"No," the other refused. "Not till I'm the first to know what you two did last night so I can have blackmail!"

"Too late to be first," Willy stated. One of Eska's wild chuckles rang from the vent. Shawn glared at Willy, but could say nothing as he coughed. Willy shrugged. "Don't worry, Eska won't tell if I ask him not to. Now, do you want to get up or not?"

"Fine," Shawn quietly replied, humbled. "You or I?"

"You," Kim demanded, grabbing a recorder from his workstation. "Loud and clear."

The couple both blushed.

"Um... so, last night," Shawn began, keeping his eyes on Willy. "We went home. To my home. And, well. He wouldn't let me touch him. At all. Slightly torturous. Very, I mean. And then, in the morning, um, I told him I was touch starved and he... tickled me. To death almost."

"You guys are dorks," Kim said bluntly. Shawn shrugged under him, blushing. Willy said nothing, but smiled. "Mega dorks."

  

* * *

 

  The first thing Niamh did when she saw Shawn coming in was laugh in his face until she was wheezing on the floor, gasping and struggling for air. Shawn greeted her a bit less enthusiastically before heading down to his station.

He was wearing the most ridiculous outfit to exist. Well, his clothing was ordinary, but it was what he wore over it that made him look more like a clown than anything. A full body plastic cover. For two entire days, he had to suffer from Kim's ceaseless tickling and taunting. He had nothing to protect himself with, until this suit thing crossed his mind. Kim stared at him, glaring holes into his skull as Shawn teased him once more, strong of his ability to do his work and be safe at the same time.

"Man, seen Niamh today?" he whistled. "Like we Irish say, beauty is like a fine wine -- gets better with time, but should be drunk before it turns ta vinegar."

Kim took a long breath, wishing he had a butter knife to stick in the other's leg.

"Shut up," he finally hissed, upset over his loss of influence. Oh, but somebody else still had power. "Or I'll call him."

Shawn flipped him off with a charming grin, then shrugged, continuing his job.

"Bet she'd smack ye so hard if ye asked her out," he hummed in contemplation. His partner shot him a glare from his station. Shawn flicked a wrist. "Not like that, Kim, I mean in a 'wow, Kim, ye did something fer once' way."

All Kim wanted to do was punch that smile off that smug Irishman's face; and he couldn't do that as long as he wore that stupid cover.

"Eska!" he called, realizing too late he called the wrong person. He could still do the trick though. "Eska, Shawn is being mean."

The lizard like pseudo-demon appeared, as punctual as a Swiss clock, but sadly (for Kim) not exactly effective against the Irishman's defenses. He stared at the protective plastic gear covering his target, attempting to figure out a strategy to turn it to a useless pile of junk; eventually, he settled for gnawing it, hoping his teeth would break it apart in a way or another.

"Fock ye!" Shawn replied triumphantly from the safety of his container, flipping off both of them. "Kiss Niamh on the lips and tell 'er ya love her!"

" _ **S̸ ̨H͢ ͞͝A̴̡ ̷̡̧W͏̨ ̵͘N͞͏ ̡͡ ͟J̨ ͠A͞ ͜C͟ ̶K͘ ͢͞ ̧͜F̵̵ ̷L ̨̢Y ͡N̷ Ņ͏.͠**_ "  Willy's voice suddenly thundered, even more frightening than Eska's, and it was the most terrifying sound anyone in that room had ever heard. Or anyone in the entire building, as the three words reverberated throughout the whole place. " _ **I'̨͝ ̴̕V̶͝ ̛͢E͢͡ ̴̕ H̶ ̵A ̵D̷͝͝ ̴͏̧ ͟͢E̵̛ ҉N̵̛ ̢͡O U̕҉ ̛͘͜G̷͘ ̷H̴̶͘.**_ "

Eska's head jolted up, ignoring the armor he was trying to eat.

_Oh boy_ , was written all over his mismatched eyes with glee, _this will be fun_.

Shawn was clearly not of the same opinion. He booked it to the nearest door, legs close to vaporizing because of how fast he tried to go, Kim immediately on his heels intimating him to force him come back.

"MA'AM HELP! SHAWN'S TRYING NOT TO DO HIS WORK!" he shouted as they passed the staff manager's office.

"GOD FECKIN' DAMNIT!" she yelled, leaping up, racing out the door. "GET BACK HERE, YA FOCKIN' MENACE!"

"IN ALL HONESTY, WILLY CAN BE SCARIER THAN EVERYONE IN THIS WHOLE STUDIO PUT TOGETHER!" Shawn defended himself.

"WE'LL SEE HOW YE CAN RUN AWAY FROM HIM AFTER I BREAK YER LEGS!" Niamh replied, fuming. Shawn thought it wise taking after Eska and leaping into a vent, screaming in return as he flipped his connational off: "BYE! BITCH!" and nimbly scuttling away in the air ducts.

The woman's curses echoed behind him: "GO M'BRISE AN DIABHAL DO CHNÁMNA AGUS DROCH ÁIRD CHÚGAT LA GÁOITHE!"

"YOU TOO, GOBSHITE BITCH!"

Shawn chuckled, proud of himself. As soon as he turned, however, he almost jumped, hitting his head on the low metallic sound. God, he hated Eska's tendency to materialize in front of people. He took a turn to the left, index finger violently flying to his mouth in the hope the lankly lizard-like young man would take the hint and leave him to escape his doom.

He found Eska had no intention of letting him be as soon as he shouted about him heading towards the bathroom, giving away his location.

"Eska, I swear I'll be nice to you, just please please _please_ shut up!"

"BY NORMAN'S OFFICE!"

It was as if he was having fun making him run for his life in long, small and dark corridors where he couldn't even try and stand on his fours.

"If you don't shush, you will regret it! Stop if you value your lungs!"

"PASSING SAMMY!"

"God damn it."

Only God knows how, honestly, but he finally managed to lose him in the labyrinth that was the vents. He kicked out the grate leading to the outside and pulled himself out of the studio. 

"Aha!" Shawn shouted, flipping off the studio, walking back and away from the damned place, grinning like a maniac. "Take that, all ye bitches! Fuck you, KIm! Screw you all, suckers! I'm go--"

"Shawn," he cut in, all chipper and sweet. Dangerous. Shawn froze. How the hell would he have found him?! Willy's hands were on his shoulders, trailing down to his hands. "Maybe you need a bit of time off."

"Y-you're not mad?"

"Ha! Not at all. I figured out Kim had been torturing you for the past two days. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was... I was embarrassed."

"Aw. Cutie. How do doughnuts and coffee sound?"

"Really nice, actually."

"Like me?" 

"Oh, you're far more."

"Flatterer."

He kissed him.

 

* * *

   

 "Shawn?" Willy looked around with wide bewildered eyes, three days later. "The hell did you do?! This whole place looks like an Irish village stormed the studio!"

 "Oh, come now, Willy," Shawn chuckled in good humor, coming down from the ladder he was using to hide the last of Wally's keys, high atop the Alice head in his department. He hoped that his sweater was dark enough to mask the wet spot, otherwise the plan would never work, at least, not as well as he'd like. He grinned an let out a laugh as he approached Willy, spinning a little on his toes. He saw Willy repress a smile to keep up the facade of stern representation, but his eyes gleamed with curiosity and bemusement. The reproof on his lips smoldered as Shawn kissed his forehead. "It was for luck, yer gonna need it today, chuisle."

 

 "You know I don't do riddles, Shawn, though yours are oft not aptly hidden," Willy remarked without bite. His eyes scrutinized him like embers, fiery yet comforting. There was a smile he dared not reveal. "It smells sweet in here.... What are you planning, you Lynn?"

 

 "Lynn?" Shawn's brow arched in a question. "I don't suppose ya mean Flynn?"

 

"Lynn Lynn, city of sin," he cheekily replied, Shawn recognizing the rhyme from his nephew, "If you ain't bad, you can't get in."

 

"You sneaky little cake," he hummed, delighted. Willy turned maroon (such a wonderful shade suited him), looking at the floor. "I could devour ya whole, you being sweeter than honey."

 

"You shameless flatterer," Willy murmured and chastized, not noticing Shawn enter his space a little more. "You oughta be ashamed of yaself, Mr. Flynn, stooping to acknowledge someone of my ilk."

 

"Au contrare, m’fhíorghrá," Shawn smirked at Willy's thoughtful face, they both knew the meaning of the peculiar term, Shawn only using it in a public setting. He grinned wide, spreading his arms. "Oh, give me a hug, I'm so excited fer today!"

 

"Oh, Shawn," Willy sighed and gave up and in, expression soft and loving. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed his nose. Shawn giggled a little, then rested his chin on Willy's shoulder, hoping for the equal and opposite reaction. He seemed to be all shamrocks that day, for that crucial component was fulfilled. He waited a moment, heart beat rapid in anticipation, and then, he seized his moment. Willy only had time to let out a sudden cry as Shawn drove his head onto his shoulder, eyes widening as he recognized the smell of the chemical soaked in the materiel, holding his breath and pushing on Shawn's chest just to spite him. Shawn turned his head and nipped his ear, and he heard a muffled curse as the dark man inhaled. He pulled away, and Shawn let him after a minute, the damage dealt. He swayed on his feet, no longer sure of their placement being firm or not. He gripped Shawn as he swaybacked, slowly shaking his head as though to clear it. His typically clear and bright eyes were having trouble focusing properly, and his ears hummed. "Ngh, Shaaawn, you drugged me? What... what is the point?"

 

"You'll learn soon enough, love," he soothed, sitting and pulling Willy onto his lap. He complied without a struggle, making Shawn slightly anxious. "This is just fer the prank war, though. Don't be nervous."

 

"I wasn't, not for a second." Willy softly replied, nuzzling his neck. Shawn felt happiness buzz in his heart; only your real love would let you drug them without asking and being totally okay with it. They still were going to talk about it though. Another minute passed, and Willy slumped forward onto Shawn with a groan.  God, he looked so damn precious, all soft and vanilla. "Mmm, Shawn...."

 

"Yes Willy?" he grinned, loving the languid version of his sweetheart. "What is it?"

 

"When I wake up, _love_ ," his voice was growling, angered. One eye snapped open menacingly to glare at him, and he shrank within himself, "you are  **dead**."

 

With a sigh, he lost consciousness, and Shawn picked Willy up, heading over to the entrance to his loft. He set him down on the chaise lounge after he made it up, going to his desk and rummaging around for a moment before feeling the cold metal. He held one loop in his hand to warm it up, looking at Willy's peaceful face. Peaceful would be the wrong term, actually, because even in rest, he seemed worried about something or upset. Shawn sighed, clipping the loop to his wrist and attaching to other to his own. He took Willy's hand, moving his thumb back and forth over his hand. Only then did the lines of worry fade. God, he loved him. And his presence made Joey's indignant yells and sobs even more pleasurable to relish.

 

* * *

 

  When Lacie came in, everything was okay. Or so it seemed. She hummed as she made her way downstairs, ignoring what she presumed to be the general ruckus.

Suddenly, a horrifying fit of coughs coming from the closest vent reached her ears. She turned to it just in time for a skeletal cinnamon arm to come out of it, hands like claws attempting to pierce through the wood, almost immediately followed by a skull that thumbled to the ground taking a body with it in its violent fall to the floorboards.

Lacie had never seen Eska come out of a vent and by God did she wish she hadn't just now. It didn't help that the factotum kept attempting to spit a lung out with the same noises of an old, decrepit animal choking on a bone.

"You... uh..." she tried, praying he wouldn't jump at her throat. "You need some help?"

Eska turned to her sharply.

"OLD SPICE." he screamed shrilly, and a couple of the mechanic's eardrums downright exploded.

He resumed coughing some more, laying on the floor like a pain-filled two-tailed snake and doing his best to pat his own back to help himself get the powder out of his system. Lacie's concerned attention shifted then on a pretty distressedly annoyed Thomas coming towards her at full speed.

"Where. Are. My. Real. Tools." he demanded to know, waving half threatningly under her chin a rubber wrench that couldn't have tightened a screw even if it tried really hard. "I have a children's toy set instead of my kit!"

"How am I s'pposed to know? You look after your tools, I look after mine."

Wally bolted between them, grabbing (one of) his boyfriend(s) at the speed of light and dragging him away as he screamed something about needing help to 'find them' or he would have ended up fired. An equally desperate story boarder speed-walked her way up to Henry, who couldn't do anything but scratch his head in confusion listening to her and look around, in the vague hope whatever he was looking for would spontaneously appear (it didn't, whatever it was). In the room behind him a group of animators were lazying their way through the day, some taking sips from the inkwells.

"Isn't that poisonous?" Lacie asked, pointing to the small containers. "Like, ink and all?"

"Well, there's no ink in them, so, they're safe..." Henry reassured her. "Don't know where it all went."

"Then what's in there?"

"Beer. And it's everywhere, instead of the ink. Fine Lager, too."

Joey's angered scream reached them and turned into a bubbling string of sobs.

"It's not going to be a very productive day for any of us." the animator concluded as they could make out Joey yelling about balloons, doorknobs, and shaving cream.

"I can see that."

 

Lacie had a sneaking suspicion on the identity of the pranks' culprit. To make sure it was really who she was thinking of she headed down to the Heavenly Toys department. As she entered, however, she immediately bumped into a distressed and burning red Kim.

"Please tell me there's somewhere I can burn these." he pleaded, holding an armful of papers. "I really need them  _gone_."

"Why would you burn- oh. OH." The papers were photographs, and Lacie easily recognized Niamh on all of them. The entire studio was aware of the young toy maker's crush on the staff manager, thanks to a certain pair of stubborn self-proclaimed matchmakers constantly trying to hook them up. "You don't want her to find your collection?"

"SHAWN MADE THEM!" Kim whisper-yelled to maintain his voice low, face so flushed it seemed to burn pitch black fire, "AND I WILL HAVE HIS BLASTED LEGS REPLACED WITH A PAIR OF WOODEN STICKS IF I DON'T GET RID OF THESE RIGHT THIS INSTANT BY TURNING THEM TO ASHES!"

It was only then that the female builder noticed all the captions. Even she in her apathetic mindset blushed reading a couple of them. Shawn always did have a talent of being overly sexual. It was a wonder Willy survived. Who knows what they've done at this point. (little did she know, the two had actually done nothing of the sort).

And well, she had to agree. That was a pretty good reason for the toy maker to desire so intensely their utter annihiliation.

"There's a small incinerator for blueprints next to my office, if you-"

"Thanks." Kim cut her off through gritted teeth, forcing as many pictures in an empty bag that once housed cotton and making a run for the lower levels. The mechanic looked at him go, her only company the assembly line's noise.

Maybe Niamh could help.

 

"Niamh?" Lacie called, head poking into the now doorless office, concerned. "Ma'am?"

"What?" the staff manager replied, ignoring the discarded door left rot on the floor, sitting at her desk in all of her glory, far too busy to look up. "What is it, Lacie? Spit it out."

"What happened to the door?"

"I broke it."

"Why?"

"It was locked."

"You know..." Lacie suggested, "You could have asked Wally... because he has the keys to all the rooms... to open it... for you?"

"He can't find them to save his feckin' life t'day." answered the Irish lass. "His key ring was on the door of the janitor closet, only key on it to Joey's office, which is missing it's knob, and is therefore useless. You know what, though?"

The mechanic stared at the short, plump, extremely blonde instrument of destruction's icy blue eye and for the very first time felt a pang of pure fear from the woman she stood in front of traverse her body with a shiver.

"Just as soon as I find whoever the shite thought it woulda' been funny t' lock me office, I'm gonna punch their pearly whites right outta their damn mouth."

"Jesus Christ, calm down. Kinda crabby today, aren'tcha?"

"Eat a dick, Lacie."

"Fair enough."

"Hey! Flynn!" Niamh's voice made them skid to a halt. He turned to face her, complexion becoming blanched as well as slightly apprehensive. "D'ye have any fookin' clue who may have locked me door? Imma slaughter that bitch!"

"I have nooo idea," Willy acerbically counterclaimed, yanking Shawn forwards by the means of their cuffs with a burning glower. "How about you, Shawn?!"

"Nope!" he hurriedly denied, unwilling to be slammed into the ground. Niamh studied him for a moment before turning away and withdrawing a return to her office. "Willy, Willy, I am going to--"

He glared at him malcontentedly. Shawn bit back his phrasing in fear, breaking out in a fidgitous sweat. Then they dashed off.

 

 Just pure shouting was heard down the hall. Willy firmly grasped a banister as Shawn strained to get away, trying to get to the lower levels, where even more mayhem and misery awaited those who had had the misfortune of being targeted by one Irish bastard. It was Eska's eerie yelling that attracted Niamh and Lacie's now somewhat curious, slightly appalled selves.

"IT'S IN MY EYES!" the mask wearing handyman cried, for crying he was, scrubbing the tear streaks flowing on his hidden cheeks. "IT BURNS!"

"Um... Maybe Shawn just wanted to  _spice_ things up?" Willy hastily punned, glaring at his grinning boyfriend, then looked back at his suffering friend with concern and anguish. "I'm so sorry Eska, he'll never do it again, I swear!"

"IT'S IN MY THROAT, TOO!" Eska wailed in response, bursting into a coughing fit before opening his mouth wide and unleash a tortured scream.

Willy agreed, screaming in confusion as well, everyone within a 10 mile radius covering their ears. All except for Shawn, who stared victorious at his defeated foe with a smug grin. Let that be a lesson for him; if he had to learn the hard way to not sneak up on the toy maker and make his position known, then so be it.

The factotum's venomous glance sent shivers down his spine.

**"I WILL HARVEST YOUR TOES."** he threatened, gurgling and spitting drool.

The Irishman was about to ask him, horrified, to repeat that, because _no way in the fucking pits of hell did he just actually said he was going to do what to his what_ , but then Grant appeared at the end of the hall, fuming. With a bolt uncommon for someone his age, he charged at the Irishman. Shawn tugged on Willy's arm, smile vanishing. He wrenched Willy off the banister and bolted up towards the music department, dragging him along by their handcuffs. Their arguing bounced up and down the stair case.

"ShawN I SWeAr TO FUcK!"

"LATER!"

"I DID NOT MEAN IT LIKE THAT, AND IF ANYTHING, YOU'RE ON THE COUCH!"

"YOU'LL BE STUCK THERE WITH ME!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"WITH PLEASURE!"

Willy's eldritch scream of frustration rang throughout the building three times before fading away.

"What did he do to you?" Lacie asked the accountant, handing Eska a tissue box which was rapidly used and torn apart between painful yells. "You look fine."

"He boxed up my calculator and nailed it shut," he harrumphed, "And put a walrus thingy sticker on it!"

"Correction," Shawn called up, out of breath, a hint of confusion in his tone. "I did not do that. Well, the sticker at least."

"Well then," Grant grimaced. "Who did?"

"Me," Willy hesitantly admitted. "Because it was  _sealed_."

No one said anything. After a moment, however--

"Hah..." Grant was smiling gently, "Sealed."

 

 

"Shawn, can you come here just a second?" called Johnny from the organ room as the two fugitives bolted past. "Jack and I have a something to show you!"

"Alright, alright," Shawn huffed, hurrying in his direction, dragging a reluctant Willy beside him. "What is it?"

The organist was grinning as Jack dramatically waved his hands: "I've had an inspiration! A brilliant idea! A piece of music so sublime, it made me cry when I first wrote-slash-found it!"

He pointed at a music sheet covered in big, black letters spelling out an insanely obscene song. The Irishman snorted in anticipation, remembering placing it down on the small table in the sewers. Willy slowly turned to glare at him.

"Our Jack has produced yet another lyrical masterpiece, as you can observe," his friend continued for him as the song writer cackled, "As soon as I saw it, I couldn't help myself! I just had to find the notes worthy of such magnificence! And I've done a pretty good job, if I say so myself. But! I need your opinion."

" _My_ opinion?"

"Absolutely, my dear friend. And yours too, Willy, if you please. ("Fuck you!" he hissed, done with the day). But now hush! And let me delight your ears!"

With a grand gesture, he carefully placed his fingers on the keyboard. Then--

_**"DICK, SUCK A DICK, SUCK A DICK, SUCK A MOTHERFU-"** _

Shawn collapsed onto the floor, dragging Willy down with him while howling madly in laughter, which ended up spreading to his boyfriend; for one, because both Johnny and Jack were extremely into it and giving the performance their all, and also because only a cold hearted statue wouldn't have found similar lyrics accompanied by the incessant squeaking of each rubber duck placed under the organ keys absolutely hilarious.

The musician and lyricist turned to them on the verge of bursting into cackles themselves, prouder than ever: "So? How was that?"

"It t... truly touches the heart," Shawn giggled, trying to get a hold on himself, leaning on Willy. He started coughing from laughing so much. "Oh my fuck...."

"It _quacked_ you up, that's for sure," added Willy as he slowly regained composure before managing to get up from the floor he'd fallen to (or better yet, was pulled onto) while laughing. "But there was a lot of  _fowl_ language."

Johnny wiped a tear, a little giddy, and delivered a friendly pat to his Irish pal's shoulder, chuckling as if tomorrow had never existed: "Oh dear God, Flynn, you're trying to get yourself killed today. Just wait till Sammy hears about thi-!"

"Oh, but he's got his own problems, wait and see!"

"SHAWN I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" Willy shrieked, at the same time Sammy roared in rage. "What did you do this time?!"

"FLYNN!" Sammy screamed. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS BULLSHIT!?"

"Irish pub songs are  **not** bullshit!" Shawn yelled, then paled as he realized he betrayed his location to the incredibly strong songwriter. "Okay, gotta dash before Sammy kills us both!"

"I AM NOT TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH YA!"

"Too late!"

 Sammy darted into the room, bright red and angry, just as the two vanished. He stamped his foot, enraged.

"Look, it's not as bad as what happened to Joey," Jack placated him as he flipped over three chairs and a table. "Man, that was rough."

"What happened to Joey?" Johnny asked, curiosity sparked. "I thought that he just lost his doorknob."

"Nope," Jack sighed, but chuckled in spurts of laughter. Sammy paused in his rampage to listen. "Shawn filled his room with over blown balloons. And you know how Joey's door opens in to his room? Well, when he opened it, they all popped. And guess what was in them?"

"What?" Johnny asked, enraptured. "Shawn filled the balloons with what?"

"Shaving cream."

"Hoooly shit... boys, we stan a legend."

 

 

 Below and later, Shawn and Willy held their breath as Norman continued his sweep of the area. Willy leaned against the wall, hand pressed flat on the wood, feeling for reverberations. Shawn had spray painted the projectionist's lens, all of them, a bright toxic green. And the tall man was not having a good time angrily trying to scrub the paint off.

Shawn opened his mouth to talk to Willy, but the dark man glared at him. Shawn bounced on his heels, and edged closer to him. He took his hand. Willy pulled his out of his hold. Shawn frowned, nuzzling up to him. Willy gently pushed him away as far as he could. Shawn snapped back to his side, cuffed hand on Willy's shoulder and the other snaking around his back. Willy stepped away. Shawn followed.

Finally, Norman huffed and gave up, going back to his area just around the bend grunting curses left and right. Shawn grinned as Willy deflated in relief. 

"Victory kiss?" he murmured right by Willy's ear, feeling goosebumps spread on his skin. "I think now would be a nice time."

 "You have no s-sense of timing," Willy hissed back. Shawn took his hand again. Willy seemed to shiver. "Shawn... I need to tell you. Um, hands? Sensitive."

"Really now?" Shawn hummed, quirking an eyebrow. He leaned closer, Willy slowly blushing and moving back. "How... _sensitive_?"

"Enough," he gulped, now Merlot, and Shawn was unsure on what he was referring to - him or his hands. He rolled his eyes, pulling him into the nearest room, Willy's protests silent and mostly glaring daggers into his skull. Shawn locked the door behind them. He rose his arm, slipping behind Willy, their linked arms over his chest. Willy attempted to look over his shoulder at Shawn, but he pushed him against the wall, his body flush against his back. He ran a finger down Willy's uncuffed hand. "Shawn... ha... th-that... I... um... I kind of... nevermind."

"You liked that?" Shawn asked, trying to decipher the cracked message. Willy hesitated, then shook his head. Shawn shrugged, trailing his hand down Willy's side. "What about this?" A nod. "And this?"

He brought Willy's hand to his lips, his head resting on his shoulder. He ghosted kisses all over the fingers, pressing his lips to the back of his hand. Willy swallowed roughly, nodding. He licked his palm, Willy gasping and shifting.

"Oh yes," he forced, head leaning back. Shawn grinned, eyeing his exposed neck. He snapped a bite, Willy letting out a squeak. "Shawn!"

"Shhh," he smugly hushed, nodding toward a shadow on the window of the door. Willy glared at him. "We don't want to be caught, do we?"

"Fuck yo- ah! Shit!" Shawn put Willy's fingers in his mouth. He arched his back against him, glaring at him, Nero d'Avola. "Shawn! Come o-o-oh...."

"Gotta go," Shawn muttered, the shadow gone. He smirked at Willy, who was no doubt enraged at him for being a jerk. He licked his lover's ear. "Don't you dare think I'm done with you today...."

"Dick," Willy hissed. Shawn grinned, and kissed him. He melted into the kiss. They pulled away after a second, and Willy rolled his eyes, brushing back Shawn's hair. "Still love you, though."

 

 

"Bertie?" Lacie quietly asked, leaning around the bend to his workstation. Instead of being his usual pompous self gushing about his awe inspiring greatness (God, such a narcissist), he sat at his desk numbly and silently. She strode over to him, resting her hands gently on his shoulders. He jolted, twisting in his rather uncomfortable chair to see who was his intruder. He blinked momentarily as he recognized who she was, swiftly returning to his work with burning anger and shock.

 "Are ya alright, Bertrum?" the mechanic decided to ask cautiously.

 

 

"No! Some fiendish imbecile has defaced my work! Mine, the greatest and most magnificent creator of awesome and powerful machinery!" he burst, his fists slamming onto the table before him in rage, eyes burning of outraged tears. Multiple blueprints flew off the desk, drifting down to the floor. Lacie prepensed the documents, lifting one up to behold what had been modified.

One of her hands leapt to her mouth as she held in an outburst of wild laughter and glee. Written in large cautious lettering, all over the documents, spanning every niche, was one word, the flashing chartreuse reading 'dickwad'. Bertrum glared at her, arms folding across his chest. She delicately returned the archetype design to the mahogany console. Her delightfully extensive tresses swept his back, some locks resting above his shoulder.

He mantled a blazing scarlet as her hand brushed his own, his eyes solely focused on the blue tinged documents. Tears assailed his vision, threatening to fall before her in his furor lamentations. "I will destroy this... this... INSOLENT FOOL!"

 "That'll be me!" Shawn laughed. Bertrum stood sharply, chair screeching back, but restrained himself from throttling the Irishman simply because of Lacie's presence, whom he didn't want to see him lose his cool completely. Willy, slightly behind Shawn, put his hands together and silently begged Bertrum not to fly at them in rage. He pursed his lips and complied. Lacie rolled her eyes and the toy maker frowned as he shifted his attention on the well-built woman. "Couldn't think of something fer ya, though."

Lacie laughed: "Guess I'm the only one who got spared, huh? Not a big surprise, really! I bet there ain't a single soul here who would try and prank me succes-"

Her sentence never knew its own end, for somebody, they all knew it to be Shawn, back-stabbingly hit the back of her knee. Taken by surprised, she bent both her legs as she stumbled forward and fell right into Bertrum's arms (more precisely: onto Bertrum) with a surprised half-strangled shriek. The creator of Bendy Land tried his hardest to keep himself from combusting into fiery flames right there and then for the sake of both his own dignity and the woman he kept from falling face first into the ground. Bertrum was NOT acutely aware her hand was on his chest. He did NOT pay attention to her blush perfectly complimented her eyes. He was NOT thinking about how his hand was on the curve of her back. He most definitely did NOT focus on the fact her leg was between his. (All of these statements are "completely true"). Lacie shot a furious glare at Shawn, cheeks the color of garnet, plotting to smash his face into a bucket of ink, even as he rapidly tried to claim innocence. Willy snickered softly, enjoying forcing his boyfriend to take the blame for his little trick.

 

Joey, after his office was sufficiently and satisfactorily scrubbed clean, decided to shut the studio for the day, dismissing everyone. However, due to the fact that Shawn had changed all the clocks in the building and how there were no windows in the place, it ended up being extraordinarily late compared with the presumed time. A few of the employees met outside to chat, a singular group being Kim, Wally and his boyfriends, as well as Shawn and Willy, still shackled together. And by the looks of it, they were planning on heading home together.

"Um, s-so yeah," Willy's blush was impossible to see in the darkness of the night. Wally noticed the stutter and the minute motion by their hands. Shawn was seeming to just be running his thumb over his hand, but if he found out about the Franks twins' 'thing', he was writing. He caught Willy's eye, grinning at the sheepish expression that crossed his face. "We'll be going now."

 "See ya tomorrow bro," Wally smirked from the glare Willy shot at him. The Irishman tugged his wrist, and the two vanished. Wally let out a laugh, from between his two boyfriend whose hands he was holding. "He's soooo fucked."

"What? Why?" Sammy retorted. "I don't understand."

"The fuck you don't" Wally rolled his eyes. Sammy stared. "Of course you do."

"How thE SHIT?! DID YOU?! DO THAT?!"

"Magical boyfriend," Thomas mouthed without a sound, Wally turning to face him after with a grin and wink.

"Right back at chya."

The mechanic's face lit up.

"This is horrible," Sammy grumbled. The other two turned to look at him, Thomas with an excited spark in his eyes and Wally with lazy anticipation in his. Sammy paled and then turned bright red. "Shiiiit."

"Sammy's the only one who hasn't, you know... been _that_ one?" Thomas nudged to Wally. The janitor grinned. "Ooh,  _fun_."

 Sammy was clearly fucked.

 

"Alright, alright, I literally couldn't care less over what happened yesterday," Joey remarked with his voice hoarse from overly screaming the previous day, "it was a complete fuckin' disaster that shall NOT be repeated. Ever. Now, where the blazes is that bloody musician?!"

"Sammy?" Wally inquired, nudging at Thomas with a priggish smirk. "He's... 'sick'."

Thomas grinned. 

"Haha! Extremely ill!" he snickered viciously and added, with a slight hint of victory in his voice. "Sick of di--"

"DIARRHEA!" Willy interjected rapidly, walking past with a mug of tea, sparing his brother's boyfriend from mortification. Shawn laughed from across the room, making Willy turn and stick his tongue out playfully. Shawn rolled his eyes, huffing a quick chuckle. Willy, after glancing around to assure no one was watching him, sauntered over to him. He plopped himself down in his lap on the couch, kissing his cheek before nuzzling into his chest. "That was insanely narrow."

"I'll say!" the Irishman cachinnated, still extremely domineering from yesterday's successful pranking. He nuzzled his resting boyfriend. "About yesterday... I had fun!"

"Love..." Willy peered at him through one eye with a twinkling spark within. "Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> "go mbrise an diabhal do chnámha agus droch áird chúgat lá gaoithe" is two Irish curses at the price of one: it means "that the devil will break your bones and you may be badly positioned on a windy day"


End file.
